Sueños de chocolate

Growing up when my family was in Michigan, my dad worked for a company called GE. The thing I remember most about this was that he would have to take work trips to Germany and bring us presents when came back. I remember specifically a blue plastic sunglasses case that came from the company but the best thing about him traveling was the chocolate. Chocolate in general is amazing but ask a kid Katie (my sis) and I loved the Kinder Schokolade Surprise Eggs. For example:

As you can see they were just a really tasty egg shaped piece of chocolate that had a toy or game of some sort inside. Katie and I loved them. Yet as we got older (and Dad stopped traveling back and froth to Germany) they were harder to find. Apparently this is because they are technically illegal to import into the United States for reasons I fail to fully understand. Thus my childhood dreams of Kinder Eggs were slowly crushed. 

Jump forward to Madrid, 2016. Living here obviously means that shopping is going to be different than it was at home. New stores, different brands, and unique products.Today I went in search of some essentials--laundry detergent, toothpaste, wine--at a store my Señora suggested. The place is called El Corte Inglés and seems to have literally everything you can think of in one giant building. Think Walmart, your local meat market, and a high end outlet mall under one roof. I´m not kidding about the last part--I literally could have bought a Coach purse in the same building as my groceries.

On my way out I noticed a whole end cap full of foreign chocolate, including the Kinder brand! Instantaneous excitement! I'm not in the US... do they have them? Yes! They looked slightly different than what I remembered but there they were, a whole row of egg shaped chocolates just waiting to fulfill my childhood dreams. 

Being the American I am I went home to document the entire experience:

Kinder Joy: exactly what I felt about finding you old friend. 

Wait. Confusion. This isn't chocolate. What the heck did I buy?

This is not what I remember at all! What about the cool yellow plastic container? Or the actual chocolate?

Ok. Not what I wanted but it's still chocolate. 

Annnd the toys were cooler when I was 8 but...

That doesn't mean I wasn't going to play with it! (And Caitlin that comment is totally your fault!)

August 16th 2016

Clases de español en tándem: Carol ¿Cómo?

So much for being done with college, it is back to school time for me again! Looks like I might turn out to be... *gasp!* a life-long learner. Or maybe I just like spending lots and lots of money on fancy pieces of paper that say I'm good at stuff. That must be it. Nope, that is totally a lie. I really just like shopping for new school supplies! Too bad I can't get paid to do that! Oh wait...

(I'm a teacher. Get it?)

Bad jokes aside, I went back to the classroom as a student August 15th for my first Spanish class in nearly three years. CIEE set us up with classes through Tandem Escuela Innternacional Madrid where students from numerous countries come to learn Spanish, English, and/or German. The 70-some people in my group were split up based on level which was determined by an online test we took before leaving the US and a verbal test we took the day before classes started. The kind woman who administered the test stressed that it was just for placement and not to worry about how well we did. Which of course means I completely ignored her and stressed about it. My stressing (and minimal Spanish skills) didn't do me all that much good since I was placed at an A1 level. My school, like many others in Europe, uses the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages, which if your interested in you can read more about. The cliff notes version is that I'm a beginner. Like knows how to introduce myself but not much else style beginner. I knew this going in so I wasn't especially disappointed in myself and just took it as a opportunity to learn more than people who have a good base in the language.

Does it make the next year that much more difficult? Oh heck ya, but that's exactly what I signed up for.

Class itself is five days a week for three hours a day with a half hour break in between. I am with a group of about 10 other A1 beginners starting at 9:30 every weekday and during this time two different teachers come in an attempt to instill some Spanish wisdom into our brains. They have varying success.

Other than the teachers switching rooms instead of the students, the oddest thing for me thus far has been the lack for definite structure in the course. College classes, from my experience, have been very structured from the beginning; they always had a syllabus and a book list and I knew exactly what I was supposed to be learning. Thus, this class has been a change for me. I don't have a book yet and have never been given a syllabus. Class seems to be a bit random about what specifically we will be learning each day, especially the first week. And no tests. I'm not graded so I have no idea how I am doing. Apparently at the end of my four weeks I get a certificate of completion (Yay expensive paper!?) but I'm not really sure how much good that will do me.

But I know I'm learning things... at least I think I am.

Most of our class time is spent on activities, which makes the pedagogical side of my brain smile even as the rest of me is swallowing mouthfuls of anxiety. We do lots of moving around the classroom, presenting sentences in Spanish, playing games, and trying to get across to our teachers exactly what we don't understand with limited vocabulary. There has been some direct grammar instruction, but a lot of it is integrated into the rest of the course.

For example on the first day of class in our second session our professor, Provi, introduced herself to us and then started a game. The premise was each person chose a Spanish word that starts with the same letter as the beginning of our first names. Then we had to choose a motion the associate with that word.

I completely blanked and couldn't remember a single Spanish word that started with "C." The words "Off to a good start now, aren't I?" sarcastically swirled around my head.

My anxiety level? Skyrocketing.

After we had (theoretically) all chosen a word we circled up and the game began. Our professor introduced herself as Provi Pulpo (which means octopus in Spanish), doing a lovely little interpretation of how one swims as her motion. The next person repeated Provi's name and motion before introducing himself as Justin Jamón (ham), Thus the game went around the circle while I tried to come up with a word while simultaneously trying not to forget any of my peers' names.  

I managed not to screw up any of the motions or chosen last names of my fellow Spanish learners and only forget one name (sorry Andrea!). Not as bad as I expected. My snap second decision for my own Spanish word came out as a question: ¿Cómo? Thus I obtained a Spanish last name my first day of class and a new nickname. It felt fitting.

August 15th, 2016

Familia anfitriona

After orientation my next step was to move into my host family's house where I will be staying until September 9th. Deadline for finding an apartment: firmly established.

I received an email about a week before I left the US outlining some vague details about where I was placed for my home stay. I knew I was placed with a 68 year old woman named Aurora and I had an address, but knew nothing else. On the last day of orientation seventy something names were slowly called and each CIEE participant was handed a packet with instructions about when were were being picked up. It was a very Opera moment: "You get a family! And you get a family! Everybody gets a family!" I was told to be packed and ready to go at 10 AM the next morning and to wear a tag Aurora's name on it. I also found out that I would be rooming with my roommate from the hotel, Savannah.

A little nervous, I dragged all my worldly possessions down to the hotel lobby and stood awkwardly like a kid waiting to be picked for a kickball team in gym class. But someone picked me! Or more realistically, Savannah and me.

The first thing I noticed about Aurora is just how small she is. High averages obviously vary depending on what country you are in, but Aurora definitely lives the stereotype that Spanish women are small. Despite her size she gives off an air of authority which initially made me assume she had practiced her mom voice for many years. Yet he came alone, so the three of us (and more suitcases than I want to admit) pilled into a taxi after short introductions in Spanish.

One of the presentations during orientation gave us some insight into what to expect in a typical Spanish home in Madrid. We were told that rooms are usually very small, everyone lives in flats instead of stand alone homes, and the places rarely had conditioning. We were also warned that it is unusual for Spanish people to walk around barefoot at home, that we should spend our time in the living room instead of our bedrooms so not to seem antisocial, beds should always be made so it doesn't seem like you are a slob, and that the kitchen was the domain of the lady of the house.

Some of these generalizations turned out to apply in my home stay but not all.

Savannah and I's room

We arrived at her home which turned out to be a fourth floor apartment in a quiet building right next to a large shopping center. Our metro stop, Nuevos Ministerios, is only a five minute walk away and is connected well enough that our train ride to school is just five minutes long and takes us directly into Sol (the center of the city). The neighborhood is more commercial that residential but all of the shops seem to have apartment buildings above them. The apartment itself was much bigger than I had expected. Savannah and I share a large bedroom and there is another room reserved for other students in addition to the master bedroom. The large living room and dining area are one room which doubles as Aurora's home office. A smaller dining area sits just off the kitchen where the students eat breakfast and if they are home, lunch. Air conditioning is a luxury that is only used in the living room. Needless to say, I quickly gathered from the location and amount of space in the apartment that my Señora had done well for herself over her lifetime.

Over our first meal together Savannah and I realized that Aurora knew significantly more English than we knew Spanish. Though we did our best to attempt, she would often tell us something in Spanish and then repeat it again in English after seeing the clueless looks on our faces. Over a lovely meal that she and her housekeeper had prepared for us, we discovered that she has traveled extensively and doesn't have children, so hosts young people from around the world through programs like the one I enrolled in. Apparently this is a common practice, and many of our group were housed in the home of a Señora.

Over the next couple days we slowly learned the rules and procedures of the house, some of which were not initially told to us, causing mild confusion. In summation:

1. We are to ¨take breakfast¨ on our one in the room next to the kitchen at any time before 2 PM.
2. Dinner is severed every night at 8:30, during which we will eat while Aurora chats with us but does not eat. Apparently this is much too early and she eats dinner around 10 each night.
3. Electricity is expensive so conserve it whenever possible. Use natural light during the day and turn off the fan when you leave.
4. A housekeeper comes every day except Sunday to clean, cook, and help Aurora shop. She does all of the dishes so we should never wash our own. Instead, leave a pile next to the sink.
5. The only chore we are aloud to do is our own laundry. One load a week for each of us between Friday and Sunday. There is no dryer so hang your clothing up on the cloths line but don't leave them too long or "they get too dry."
6. Don't shower or run laundry between 10 PM and 5 AM because it is too loud for the neighbors. (I was confused by this one).
7. Aurora works in the living room so, despite what we were told about cultural norms, she prefers we study and hangout in our room.
8. We can put food in the fridge, but absolutely no cooking. Cutting up lettuce for a salad counts a cooking. I found that one out the hard way.

Though some of these things are still odd to me culturally, but overall my time here so far has been comfortable. Aurora has been very accommodating and has dealt with the very limited skills that Savannah and I have in Spanish with patience. Each night she explains what she made for dinner in both English and Spanish so we can understand and taste some Spanish cooking. I will have to write more about that in detail later, but the food here has been very good. Other than that, she works in the living room for most of the day (from what I can tell) doing online work that I still haven't exactly figured out what is. I wouldn't exactly call this home yet and look forward to having my own space again, but I've been happy to have a home base.

August 13th 2016

¡Mujer de Alaska loca!

I claim Alaska as home and sometimes this gets me in trouble. Or in this case, it got me a reputation.

During orientation everyone had a group that was lead by either a Spaniard or a someone who had been with CIEE for several years in Madrid. Their job was to show us the ropes and the city and answer any questions that we have. Lynette was the poor soul who had to answer my endless questions. Despite her American passport Lynette looks traditionally Spanish and speaks like a native which was a perfect combination for toting nine clearly clueless twenty somethings around the city without too much trouble. 

On one such outing for lunch our group was sitting around a terrace (which is a confusing term for English speakers since it refers to any outdoor seating, not just something above ground level) drinking our beverages of choice and waiting for tapas to arrive. Conversation lulled so Lynette asked if we had any questions about the city or our upcoming jobs, etc. I had of course (being the kind of human I am) made a list during the morning's presentations for just such an opportunity. Pulling out my notebook, I flipped to my list on the top of which I had written "Safety? Legal to carry?" during a presentation from the US consulate. My thought at the time had only been loosely connected to the speaker but as the professionally dressed woman at the front of the stage had been talking about the nine American citizens currently in Madrid serving six year long drug sentences for passing around a joint, I suddenly panicked that I might have unintentionally already broken the law. No, my trip to Colorado didn't result in any questionable plant substances joining me on my European adventure; I was worried I might be caring a weapon that would land me in jail.

I didn't bring my twenty-two it that's what you're thinking. I'm talking about my Kubaton. Unless people think about it too hard it is just another key chain. It fits in my hand easily, is repetitively inconspicuous, and in the US I carry it everywhere since my keys are attached to it. In an emergency it can be used as a self-defense tool.A women's self defense class I took in high school (it's called RAD and I highly suggest it if anyone is interested) taught me just how incredibly sharp keys can be and how to use that to my advantage. My knuckles were bleeding from the backlash by the end of the day and I would hate to have to see the face of anyone who was actually dumb enough to do something that would provoke me into defending myself. Luckily I have never had to, but Madrid is a lot larger of a city than Soldotna or Bozeman so I packed it along.

My Kubaton with real Spanish keys

Thus I asked Lynette. My phrasing was not as articulate as I wanted it to be but I started out by asking her about how safe the streets are at night and if I should be carrying a knife and if my Kubaton was legal to carry here as an alternative.

Classic beginning teacher mistake. Never ask someone three questions in a row; it will just turn out badly. 

She reassured me that there was not a significant amount of violent crime here (I should be more concerned about losing my wallet to a pickpocket!) but fixated on my question about the knife. "Where are you from?" she asked me while she laughed. I explained that I was from Alaska and had never really lived in a big city before (Madrid has a population of 3.1 million people!) and I am a little concerned about being mugged. I told her I didn't bring the knife I usually run with since I wasn't sure it was common or legal to carry, but that I had brought my Kubaton. 

At this point most of our group was laughing because apparently normal people who live in cities don't think about these kind of things. I tried to my defend myself by explaining that I know how to deal with the threats that occur where I'm from: moose, bears, large animals. These are all relatively predictable and usually if you aren't stupid you won't have issues. People, on the other hand, are crazy. They do things that make no sense and ultimately seem like a worse threat to a non-city dweller. Especially for a white, English-speaking woman who stands 5'4" and looks like she has about as much arm strength as a snake. 

This is the part where people got confused. While I was trying to explain, someone asked me what the heck a Kubaton is. I described it but didn't have it in my purse to show the group exactly what I meant. As the laughter generally died down Lynette assured me that she didn't think I would be arrested for caring it but obviously not to flash it in front of the police. The conversation moved on. 

That night after dinner I was chatting with a new friend when the only other Alaskan in our program came up to join us. He flat out asked me if I was intentionally trying to see what I could get people to believe about Alaskans. I was confused and told him that I hadn't pulled any of the typical "I live in an igloo and ride a polar bear to school" stuff. He went on to tell me that apparently there is a rumor going around CIEE that I am a crazy Alaskan woman who fights off bears and moose with a metal stick and my keys. 

Yep. People here I think I fight bears and moose with a Kubaton. Bad-ass reputation=unintentionally obtained. 

August 12th 2016

Orientación con CIEE

Hotel where I had orientation

Part of the reason that I chose to go through CIEE to teach here in Madrid is that they act as a support system throughout the entirety of my time here in Spain. Initially I was worried I chose too expensive of a program, but the week long orientation made me realize how hard this would have been on my own. That being said, I learned a ton about the logistics of living and working here as well as some tips and tricks from the orientation leaders who had been there and done that.

Things I learned:

1. Dealing with Spanish Bureaucracy is a lot like being at the DMV. It's like you walk in and pull tab number 189 and the ancient woman at the desk just called 24. Then you realize the air conditioning is broken in the waiting room and you are hard core PMSing so response to the five different forms you need to fill out jumps between the edge of tears and downright anger.

Luckily on the second day of orientation CIEE walked us through how to fill out all of the necessary forms and even made us all appointments to get our Spanish IDs. Though the process has still been a pain, navigating it with help was a lot better than the prospect of trying to understand a pile of forms in Spanish all by myself.

2. House hunting is always going to be a long, annoying process but it's easier when you know where to look.

The most daunting task for me in the next month (other than learning Spanish!) is to find an apartment to rent for the rest of the year. Talking with people who live here and who have gone through the same things I am currently thinking and feeling was incredibly reassuring. I got great advice on where to live in relation to my school, took walking tours of several neighborhoods I am considering, and learned what is normal pricing for a piso (flat) in Madrid. I also got a whole list of questions and answers in Spanish about topics that might come up in conversation when I go to view apartments.

3. I have good health insurance!!!

For the first time in my adult life I won't be paying ridiculous amounts if (heaven forbid) anything were to happen to me here. Apparently the reimbursement posses takes some work but ultimately I'm covered for nearly anything. They even include mental health care. Several guest speakers came in to speak with us about how to go to a doctor here and who we can go to that speaks English.

4.  I have people.

A large part of orientation was making sure that we know we are not alone in a foreign country. There were just over 70 people at our orientation all doing exactly what I will be doing for the next year. This doesn't even count the two-week immersion group or the regular teach in Spain group, so basically there are a lot of us. Between the people I have met who are in my same boat and the wonderful orientation leaders who offered us their time and in one case even her home for an evening, if I have questions I know where to go.

In summation, my first week in Spain involved lots of presentations, paperwork, and walking around the city. I met a whole group of like-minded people from all over the US (including another Alaskan!) and the CIEE support staff, both of which will be there if I need them. I may not be 100% confident in my ability to maneuver life here solo, but luckily I don't have to.

August 8th-12th 2016

¿Que hora es?

I respect anyone who manages to work nights and still have a social life on their nights off. Swapping between schedules like that is what I imagine constantly switching time zones must be like. Personally doing this once was more than enough for me but, despite my frustration, ultimately it made for a decent story.

First, some background. Madrid is in the Central European Summer time zone which is ten hours ahead of Alaska, eight ahead of Mountain time, and six ahead of my East Coast friends. Which means when I left Denver, my phone was on Mountain Time. This usually isn't an issue since phones just update as soon as they find signal in a new place. 

Except, of course, it is when you leave it in airplane mode because international fees are astronomical,  and Verizon doesn't get signal in Europe anyway,  and even if it did you have a phone that is too cheap to have compatible technology. Frustration. On my second day in Madrid I quickly solved this problem by shelling out way too much money for a Spanish phone. Or at least I thought I solved the problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

¿Que hora es?

Act 1 Scene 1

Scene: Basic hotel room, closed European style curtains effectively blocking out any potential light, two posh looking twin beds which are lit only by a slight blue glow of a plugged in charger next to the far bed. One bed is empty, saved for a missing roommate, and in the other is a sleeping figure hidden beneath a white comforter and seemingly draped over several pillows

. 
Despite no apparent change in the room, the figure startles awake. In the blue glow the audience can see the figure is a young woman with clear bedhead and an eye mask half off her face. She gropes blindly towards the side table, hitting a button. The screen lights up.

Carol: 6:55? Damn it! I'm late! 

The list of expletives continues quietly as she vaults out of bed and exits stage left. A shower is heard turning on and then quickly turning off again. The room is lit, and she returns again, wrapped in a towel. Clothing is tossed out of a suitcase near the bed as she searches for something. She exits stage left again, and returns in moments, dressed and ready to go. 

Carol: I guess this will do for breakfast... I hope I'm not the only one running late this morning.

Exit stage right. 

Act 1 Scene 2

Scene: Hotel lobby. A woman sits behind the counter typing on a computer, center stage. Large doors to another room sit stage left. An elevator sits stage right.

Bing! The elevator doors open and the frantic woman appears. She glances at the desk

Carol: Hola

Receptionist: Hola raises one eyebrow at the woman

Carol crosses the room and tries to open the door which presumably leads to the breakfast meet. The doors are locked.

Carol as she approaches the desk: Lo siento. Necesito... en la... yo estoy con CIEE. Desayuno?

Receptionist: Si. Then the receptionist speaks quickly for several seconds in Spanish. Neither Carol nor the audience understands. 

Carol: Lo siento. I'm late. The doors are locked. Can you let me in?

Receptionist: El desayuno es a las siete. 

Carol: Yes. Si. I know... Entiendo. I'm late... Lo siento. Puedes... let me in?

Receptionist clearly confused: Breakfast is at seven. It is tres... three.

Carol: Tres? not Siete? Three?

Receptionist: Yes... points to the clock on the wall

Carol: Oh.... But my phone... Oh....Lo siento. Exits through the elevator, red faced and shaking her head. 

Act 2 Scene 1

The Receptionist sits at a bar chatting with a group of friends. She mimes pointing at the clock. The whole group laughs. Scene fades to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moral of the story is don't look at the wrong phone while you travel. Spanish receptionists will laugh at you later when you try to eat breakfast at 7 PM mountain time... 3 AM Spanish time. 

Me in the Rafaelhoteles Atocha in Madrid, Spain.

August 9th 2016

Voy a Madrid

Hola a todos!
I made it to Madrid! But let's back up.

I said goodbye to the USA in Denver on Saturday, August 6th, 2016. Katie and the whole gang were nice enough to drop me off at DIA after our two day adventure in Colorado. That whirlwind included failed plans to skydive in Longmont, successful plans for Katie and I to get matching tattoos while Annita got a Hogwarts themed one, an Alaskan invasion of 49 (the Alaska themed bar near Katie and Annita's new home), and the general silliness that ensues any time we all get together. I was definitely excited but nervous to move out of the county, but the unintentional choice to spend the week and a half before I left visiting friends and family was incredibly comforting.

My flight left in the evening so I planned on sleeping overnight and arriving in London somewhat rested for my couple hour layover. This worked too well. After finishing the end of Deadpool (I had fallen asleep watching it on the way to Denver), I abused my stash of benadryl and next thing I know a proper looking British flight attendant was waking me up. The cabin was empty. Like I'm the last person on the plane, where did everyone go, kind of empty. The poor French woman I had trapped in her window seat was clearly annoyed but had been too polite to wake me up. Slightly frantic, I let her out and rounded up my things only to discover they had closed the doors in the hallway that led to the gate. I was locked out. Note to self: get off the plane on time so you don't have to embarrassingly ask the flight attendant to let you into the terminal.

London Heathrow customs was not nearly the nightmare I expected. On quick bus ride to my new terminal and a second round of security later, I was done. No paperwork. No questions about my destination. No hassle. I didn't even have to take my checked luggage anywhere; it was checked straight through. The only odd thing I noticed that was once I got to the terminal, I wasn't assigned a gate until 45 minutes before departure. Odd for someone who tends to over plan, but not an issue in the long run. Super confused about what time my body thought it was, I was that awkward girl sleeping on her luggage for most of my short stop in the UK. Hopefully next time I see London, I will be more awake.

My last flight was uneventful and I arrived in Madrid in the evening of Sunday August 7th. Again customs was not as bad as I expected and I breezed through without any issues. They didn't even question the homemade jam I had packed that Grammie and Pappa had sent me from Alaska.

Navigating the Metro with a full sized suitcase, roller carry on, full backpack, and a purse on the other hand was a pain. I purchased a tourist day pass for all of the public transportation and set out with relative confidence in my screen shots of the directions I had googled from the airport to my hotel. I did well until halfway through my trip I discovered that someone forgot to tell Google that several of the metro lines are under construction and out of order till November. I rerouted myself but without any internet connection on my phone, I'll admit, I struggled. For anyone who hasn't driven with me or (let's be honest) been anywhere with me, you should know I suck at directions. To put my skills in context, I once called a friend during my Junior year of college so she could tell me which street Walmart was on in Bozeman despite having been there at least 10 times. Skills? I think not.

I got close. Several kind souls pointed me in the right direction and one gentleman from Senegal explained with a combination of broken English and what little Spanish I understood that the station I wanted was closed. It took me nearly two hours to take a trip that should have taken 55 minutes but eventually I got out of the metro and to the approximate neighborhood of my hotel. New challenge: my directions walked me from a different station and I had no idea which direction the hotel was. After thirty minutes of lugging everything I own around the streets of Madrid, I claimed defeat and hailed a taxi. I was only about five blocks away but was on the wrong street entirely. My driver must have thought I was a complete idiot but it was worth the five euros just so I didn't have to drag my bags any farther.

Metro pass: 12.50 Euros.
Taxi for less than a mile trip: 5 Euros.
Finding your hotel after three hours of being lost while dragging three bags: Priceless.
(Also less than the 30 Euro taxi price. Success!)

And so I am in Madrid, Spain. So not to bog down Facebook with numerous updates about my life I decided to post things here instead. Current life plan is to be here for a year teaching English at a Spanish high school but more updates on that later.

Derek Walcott said, "I read; I travel; I become." I felt like that summed up a lot of what I want from the next year. I plan on doing other things (writing and teaching being the top of that list) but it felt like a good start and good title. So that's what this is: a start.

August 6th-7th 2016